


Talk To Me

by RaspberryDevil



Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Professional Football Players, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryDevil/pseuds/RaspberryDevil
Summary: Apparently, Edgar offended some sort of deity. Or he just chose the wrong kind of people as his friends. Either way, he ends up with someone at his door he really would not invite inside. Not because he hated them, no, he just knew that expression, what it meant and more importantly that he had no interest in talking about feelings right now. //Playing professional is what both of them wanted, but when Teres breaks up with him, Edgar doesn't even know why. Maybe he shouldn't be so upset, considering that it had been a rather shaky relationship in the first place, hiding it from anyone but their close friends. And maybe he had every right to be.





	Talk To Me

**Author's Note:**

> The first part was written... two years ago? And the second half is a continuation I never finished and forget about. After all this time I thought it would be okay to just put them together and post on ao3, also slightly adjusted because things change in two years. Based on a request with the prompt 'me and you? we’re simply not cut out for this lovers thing '
> 
> FYI Jonas Polak is the Captain of Brockenborg, the German National Team participating in the FFI. This story is the reason I started using him in future stories. I have no idea about the English teams but I did minimal research and so I hope that this is acceptable, but if not – please talk to me about Inazuma players in various international leagues.

Teres' words linger in the back of his mind, always coming forth whenever Edgar thought he had a peaceful moment, hitting him like a slap across his face. It hurt but he just took a deep breath and a sip of the beer which was disgusting yet better than anything else.

  
  


“I appreciate your visit... but drinking won't solve anything, you know?”

  
  


“Obviously, but who says I drink to solve any problem?”

  
  


Jonas sighs when he stands in front of Edgar, wondering how he ended up in this situation. During the Football Frontier international, they weren't what people could call friends, but they became fellow sufferers concerning a few things. And so the former captain of Brockenborg didn't hesitate when he got the chance to play for Arsenal on a loan basis after finishing his studies. Edgar was kind enough to show him around, telling him how life worked in England and so they grew closer.

  
  


It's been longer than half a year so far and Jonas could say that he always learnt something new from time to time about the other one, little quirks or habits. Yet Jonas doesn't dare to call him his friend, even though he is one of the few who knows about Edgar being picky when it came to relationships but not gender. And this brings him to something else; as amusing as the thought of Edgar being bitter because of the alcohol is, there is obviously another reason.

  
  


“Did you and Teres fight?”

  
  


He never saw him glare like that, muttering “that stupid Teres” under his breath, showing him that he was right. At least he didn't ask if they fought _again,_ otherwise the glare might have been worse.

  
  


“We have a game in a week, so please make up before that, captain.”

  
  


There is never a guarantee that teasing works, though it's his last option now which turns out to be the possible worst he could have chosen.

  
  


“He ended whatever was between us, there is nothing to talk about.”

  
  


Jona's eyes widen in surprise. When he sees that Edgar wouldn't say anything else to that matter, he pours some beer for himself, empties the glass in two gulps and sits down; this is an information he hadn't been prepared for.

  
  


There is a moment of silence, hesitation, before Jonas breaks it.

  
  


“I always though you'd be the one who would end it.”

  
  


“Why?”

  
  


It gets Edgar out of his trance and he looks at him with knitted eyebrows, something he does quiet often when he is drunk and tries to act like he is still able to concentrate; it's in these moment that Jonas can't help smiling fondly and thinking that they are probably friends after all.

  
  


“You're so proud of your team and position, I though you'd fear people's reaction”, he explains himself, however it's no accusation, a simple impression he had, after all he wouldn't be the first one who gets told not to come out as long as he was an active player.

  
  


“I love him.”

  
  


The words are spoken so quietly that Jonas almost misses it and there is so much sadness that he feels his own heart breaking into pieces.

  
  


“You really do, huh?”, he says, but there is no reply and they continue sitting together for the rest of the night.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“You broke up with him”, Roniejo says in disbelief, “you broke up with the guy you're in love with since forever?”

  
  


He couldn't believe this and made it obvious, but Teres just shrugged, acted like it was no deal and Roniejo was the one who was far too serious about this whole stuff.

  
  


“Yeah, so what?”

  
  


Thankfully, Lagarto involves himself in their conversation before things would get heated between them, words which they would regret a few second later spoken – also Teres is currently driving and he’d prefer it if he kept his eyes on the road.

  
  


“Did something happen?”, he asks as if they were discussion a normal day, as if the night Teres had called Roniejo because he was in love with Edgar and had no idea how to deal with didn't happen, as if there was no frustration hanging in the air.

  
  


“No, I'm just tired.”

  
  


“Of him?”

  
  


That would have been an even bigger surprise. Teres often couldn't shut up about him, especially around people who knew they were dating, when he didn't have to be careful with his words. He loves bragging about the guy he was in love with, especially when it's about something Edgar would never take credit for. He was prideful but could also be humble. Thankfully Teres shakes his head.

  
  


“No. Not being able to wake up next to him every morning, wondering when he stops reciprocating my feelings. We're both professional players, he's stuck in England and I'm living in Argentina. It’s not like this is a solution between us, the back and forth.”

  
  


Roniejo regards his friend sceptically, tough then it hits him: “You really think that way.” He throws his hands up in the air, turning his head away to look out of the window, his “I can't believe this” loud enough to startle Demonio who had been taking a nap in the backseat next to Lagarto.

  
  


“Something wrong?”, he mumbles, yawning and rubbing his eyes; flying always made him so tired and meant sleeping for the rest of the day and half of the next one.

  
  


“Teres is an idiot and he will regret it deeply.”

  
  


They are the last words exchanged because even Demonio takes in how tense the atmosphere is, without seeing that Teres grips the stirring wheel so hard that his knuckles are white. Well, that's not how he imagined his vacation in Buenos Aires, though it could be worse. He could be stuck back home in Italy with a moping Fudou.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Thank you for helping”, Jonas says when Edgar closes the last box, leaning against it and rubbing his knee, more out of habit than actual pain.

  
  


“It's fine, help of a friend I suppose.”

  
  


It's been four months since the two sat on his couch and Edgar refused to completely open up to him. They've become closer since then and while Jonas could tell that the thing with Teres was eating Edgar up from the inside while he pretended that everything was fine (and succeeding with a exception of a handful of people), they never talked about it.

  
  


“Though I guess a friend wouldn't leave you like that.”

  
  


Edgar waves him off, just like he always does whenever Jonas mentions it, after all he would do the same if he was in his position.

  
  


“Go back to your team, continue the next level at university, your next goal. It's what you wanted.”

  
  


“And what is what you want?”

  
  


Jonas crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking at Edgar like he challenged him to admit it, that his career is good but that he also wants to be with Teres again; Edgar doesn't allow himself to say it though.

  
  


“We have a match against Chelsea on Wednesday, you better stay until then. Even though you aren't playing.”

  
  


The confidence and arrogance he is so used to is present and this time Edgar isn't faking it, still, Jonas can only laugh.

  
  


“Sure”, he says, thinking that it can't be bad – he had no idea.

  
  


Because when the day comes, Arsenal F.C. against Chelsea F.C., he feels like screaming and wonders how Edgar has to feel when the guy he is still in love with suddenly wears the colours of their rival; he already awaits the worst, that Edgar will start a fight and so he breathes a sigh of relief when the match ends with a draw and no blood was spilled.

  
  


(Which, in hindsight, might have been a dramatic assumption, but Jonas knew that Edgar could throw a punch and so it wasn't really far-fetched.)

  
  


Jonas prays that Edgar doesn't do something stupid now.

  
  


~

  
  


“It's been a while”, Teres says when he stands in front of Edgar after the whistle blew, “you look surprised. Don't tell me you didn't follow the news. Well, they did announce it on the last day before the transfer window closed, more surprise and all that.”

  
  


“I was busy with other things”, Edgar replies, arms crossed in front of his chest, nails digging in his own arm so that he doesn't claw at his face; Teres knows him though and he can tell that he wants to jump at his throat which confuses him more than it actually frightens him.

  
  


“You're angry with me”, he points out like it hadn't been obvious since the two of them set a foot on the field and saw each other.

  
  


“Oh shut up”, he hisses back, the only slip up he allows himself on the field with his teammates nearby, hoping that he doesn't catch anyone's special attention; it's the last thing they need in this moment.

  
  


“Don't act like I have no right to. Did you really think I would greet you with a smile?”

  
  


Teres laughs, but he is the only one of them who is amused by the thought of this and Edgar can't help wondering why he wants to hear his laughter again, just like old times even though he is pissed.

  
  


“No. But don't tell me you're angry because we aren't together any more. Not that this ever really worked out. Me and you? We're simply not cut out for this lovers thing. You said it yourself the first time we slept together.”

  
  


How he can be so shameless on the field is something which is past Edgar's understanding. However the words which haunted him are back and he remembers the day Teres told him that it doesn't work with them, remembers how sober he said it and he just wants to throw up.

  
  


Edgar is tired of feeling this way, tired of missing him and in one second his composure falls and he turns away.

  
  


“Go to hell, Teres.”

  
  


(The though that Teres is the one seeing his back this time, walking away, isn't as satisfying as Edgar thought it would be.)

  
  


**~**

  
  


On normal days, Edgar wouldn't be bothered by the reporters. Obviously they were annoying, asking question which were as unnecessary as anything else, but he could deal with that on most days. This time, he doesn't bother to hide how displeased he is – the reporter doesn't seem to pick up on it though, goes on with questions about how it feels to play without Jonas or how he himself regards the tie.

  
  


“This was the first match of Tolue, do you think he will be a threat for your team?”

  
  


“No. His presence won't change anything.”

  
  


Still not realising his mood, the reporter ends the interview with a smile and tries to catch their goalkeeper.

  
  


Edgar takes a deep breath. Right. Teres being in England will change nothing.

  
  


(Maybe he even believes himself at one point.)

  
  


* * *

 

 

Apparently, Edgar offended some sort of deity. Or he just chose the wrong kind of people as his friends. Either way, he ends up with someone at his door he really would not invite inside. Not because he hated them, no, he just knew that expression, what it meant and more importantly that he had no interest in talking about feelings right now.

  
  


“Roniejo.”

  
  


“Edgar”, the Brazilian football player says in a greeting, nodding.

  
  


“Why are you here?” In England. At my house. In front of my door. Without announcing your visits so that I can not just mentally prepare myself.

  
  


“Jonas has to catch his flight.”

  
  


“I know. He didn't want me to come so that neither cries when he departs”, he says dryly, “I asked what you are doing here.”

  
  


“I watched your game, was in England for a shooting. Nice commercial, you'll like it. Oh, and Jonas called Philip who called me so that you don't do anything stupid.”

  
  


Edgar raises his eyebrows, arms crossed in front of his chest. He should have expected that. Even though they aren't playing for the same team, only the national one, Philip liked to meddle with his life. Or his love life. Sometimes he wonders why he even bothered in the first place.

  
  


“Are you babying me?”

  
  


“I wouldn't call it that.”

  
  


“What would you call it then?”

  
  


“Spending time with a friend.”

  
  


“I'm fine.”

  
  


“And I doubt this.”

  
  


Roniejo doesn't give him a chance to respond in any way, at least unless he said what he came to tell him. The words had been on his mind for a while now and he didn't feel like they would deliver via text.

  
  


“For starters”, he begins, “you're wearing your shirt inside out. But the main thing is that you're still hopelessly in love with Teres and don't know how to deal with him showing up again.”

  
  


There are various responses Edgar could have made. That it's none of his business. That he is wrong and he doesn't love him any more (which would be a lie, though that is not the point). Accusing him of knowing about it and doing nothing beforehand. Giving him the finger and saying that this was the newest fashion. But what he does instead is closing the door in front of his face without another word.

  
  


“Are you running away?”

  
  


“Tolue run away.”

  
  


It's not often that it's obvious how much hurt there is in his voice. Roniejo wants to spend his friend comfort but after all this time he doesn't know how. Edgar had believed his words. He was not used to the love he had for Teres and so he had no doubt in his words. He probably starts to regret this now.

  
  


“Edgar?”

  
  


Silence, but he continues anyway.

  
  


“Teres doesn't know that you're hurt. He thought it would sting for a month and then get better. Maybe you should at least talk to him.”

  
  


At first there is no response. For a second he considers to knock again or ring the bell. But then Edgar does reply, voice low.

  
  


“Please go.”

  
  


Roniejo hesitates, until he realises that he has no place to tell him more.

  
  


“Okay. But please, call us if you need something.”

  
  


Roniejo doesn't expect a reply, but he does wait a bit just to make sure before he leaves; on the other side of the door, Edgar feels like crying.

  
  


(He doesn't, never had in the past year.)

  
  


* * *

 

 

“Oh, is this some kind of crisis meeting? Sweet, I always wanted to do one.”

  
  


Fideo just raises an eyebrow when Dylan is leaning over Mark's shoulder to get a better look at the screen, joining their video chat. Next to him, Demonio wonders why he's still here and not back in bed already.

  
  


“Dylan, this is no joke”, Roniejo says, though the tension which had been present before almost dispersed with his involvement; Mark just sighs while Lagarto who is sitting next to Roniejo seems mildly amused.

  
  


“I know, I know. Sorry. So? What's the plan?”

  
  


“You don't even know what it's about.”

  
  


“Oh, Jonas is on it as well. How's it going?”

  
  


“Good.”

  
  


Before the conversation can derail, Roniejo takes the word and explains.

  
  


“Well, it's about Edgar and Teres. You know that they broke up? And Edgar is not doing so well, not to mention that Teres is also still in love but thinks it's better he stays away. So we're wondering how we can make them talk.”

  
  


“Why don't you just tell Teres that Edgar is still hurt and ask him to talk things out?”

  
  


“Because Teres doesn't believe it”, Fideo replies, “He thinks it's better for them.”

  
  


“Obviously it isn't if you have this meeting.”

  
  


“Thank you, Dylan”, someone dryly comments, though the forward ignores it to give his own advice.

  
  


“I would annoy him until he does talk to him. If any of you does it, he has to listen. I mean, forcing them any other way will just hurt their relationship.”

  
  


“You know, sometimes I forget how smart you actually are”, Jonas says, though since neither knows if he's serious or just joking, they ignore him.

  
  


“Let's just do this. Fideo, you suggested something similar, right? Let's give him a call, he can't ignore it when it comes from all of us. Queraldocouldn't make it, but since he knows Teres well from playing together for a while, he might help out as well.”

  
  


“Better get ready for Edgar to be pissed at us though”, Jonas says.

  
  


Dylan shrugs, He looks amused, but his words are honest and serious.

  
  


“He has every reason, we're getting involved even though he doesn't want us to. His pride might keep him from doing anything, especially when so many annoy him.”

  
  


“Well”, Lagarto clears his throat, “who wants to go first?”

  
  


“Dylan”, the other's say at once, without missing a beat; really, he should have expected that.

  
  


“Oh well, I'm Edgar's favourite, so it's fine.”

  
  


Nobody argues with that. It's still something which seems so weird, but if you know these two for a while, it's not as much as a surprise that they get along.

  
  


“Let's see for how long”, Jonas mutters under his breath.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Edgar wonders why he even bothered to get up and open the door; he doesn't order things online and his family calls before coming over. And the last time Roniejo was there, so really, not a smart decision.

  
  


“What are you doing here?”

  
  


Teres ignores the bite in his voice, as well as the look, like Edgar doesn't want to see him.

  
  


“Can I come in? I don't want to do this in front of your door.”

  
  


Edgar steps aside without a word, though once they are in the hall of his apartment, he doesn't lead him to the living room. Realising that he won't come far with idle talk, Teres cuts right to the case.

  
  


“I won't apologise. I still think I made the right decision back then.”

  
  


“You didn't.”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Leaving was a fucking awful idea of you.”

  
  


Edgar didn't mean to say this. He wanted to keep his cool. But he's tired of that and just wants to get this over with. Unfortunately it's not going to happen. Teres looks at him as if he would have expected everything but that. He has to think of what Jonas had told him months ago.

  
  


“What? Let me take a guess, you thought I would break this up between us because of my pride?”

  
  


“And because you'd realise that there is someone better”, Teres adds because if there is one thing in this whole mess he's sure of, it's that.

  
  


“I think I can decide on my own what's best for me.”

  
  


Teres winces. Right. One thing both of them hate is other people mothering them, Edgar more so than he. He should have thought about this before saying anything. Though instead of deepening that topic, Edgar comes back to where they started.

  
  


“Is there a specific reason you come now?”

  
  


“I assume the rest talked to you as well?”

  
  


“They tried. I blocked them.”

  
  


Which was more so for their sake than his own. They were his friends, all of them, to a different degree and yet there for him. But if he had allowed them to meddle with his life, he might have been even angrier than he already was. Other people telling him who he should date was a good way to do the exact opposite.

  
  


“You can't block all of our friends.”

  
  


Edgar raises an eyebrow, a 'dare me' written across his face.

  
  


“Okay, you can”, Teres gives in with a sigh, “but are you going to block me to?”

  
  


“I don't need to. You have done a good job of that before on your.”

  
  


“I don't see-”

  
  


“Listen, Tolue”, Edgar interrupts him, the use of the last name causing Teres to shut up, “you were right in one aspect: we're simply not cut out for this lovers thing as long as we do this back and forth and argue. How can we be when we always fear that the other one leaves again? When I wonder how long you take me back. If you take me back.”

  
  


There are a few things to unpack in this, but all Teres can really focus on is: “You still like me?”

  
  


“Of course I do. I also hate you for what you did, but most of the times, I still love you.”

  
  


“Shit. Okay.”

  
  


Teres takes a deep breath, time to think about his words before rushing to resolve this. Edgar hadn't been aware that this admittance could be so easy to say or that it would have such an effect on the other one.

  
  


“We need to talk.”

  
  


“Well, it's what we're already doing. Right now,”

  
  


“No, I mean. I really want to kiss you right now, but this would be a repeat of any other time and... I really don't want to fuck this up again.”

  
  


  
“Oh.”

  
  


Edgar blushes, though he still looks slightly pained; it's good to see that he's slowly loosing the tension in his shoulders.

  
  


“I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say now”, Edgar admits, not for loss at words but scared that he doesn't say the right thing, even though he believes that he said everything important already.

  
  


“I love you. You still like me. We need to communicate better if we try to be lovers again ”, Teres says, waiting for Edgar to nod before he continues, “I think this is enough to digest for now.”

  
  


“Sounds good.”

  
  


Teres hesitates, still lingering at the door. Edgar hopes it's not a wrong step, but the look Teres gives him is enough to give in to the urge and hug him. He missed this. Missed how Teres wrapped his arms around him to keep him closer, missed his warmth and weight against him. It's short, still longer than a normal goodbye should be. When they part, Teres has a shaky yet cocky grin on his lips Edgar wants to kiss but doesn't.

  
  


“I write to you.”

  
  


“Yeah, do that.”

  
  


Once he's gone, Edgar looks at his phone. If he unblocks his friends, they'll probably guess that Teres was here and that they kind of resolved things. At least Dylan and Jonas would. This, however, is a moment he wants to treasure. It wasn't easy, talking, opening himself up like this, but it seems like they could manage it.

  
  


(He waits two more weeks until he starts to unblock them one by one and as expected, Dylan answers with a 'congrats'; he's really lucky that he's Edgar's favourite idiot.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! :D


End file.
